June 15, 2009 – Hayes Residence, New York
The footage on the morning news looked like it had been wrestled from someone's panic-shaken phone. Grainy, unsteady, capturing a cluster of mud-brick buildings in the Afghan desert with smoke billowing into a cloudless sky.
In the center of the frame, a blur of red and gold shot upward, breaking the sound barrier with a thunderous crack that distorted the audio into static.
"Another one," Arthur murmured, taking a slow sip of his tea.
Eileen paused in the middle of the living room, a stack of A.I.M. files clutched to her chest. She watched the screen, her brow furrowing. "Is that really Tony?"
Arthur didn't look away from the screen. "Who else? Only one man has an ego loud enough to paint a stealth weapon in red and gold."
The crawl at the bottom of the screen read: TERRORIST STRONGHOLD DESTROYED IN KUNAR PROVINCE. US MILITARY DENIES INVOLVEMENT.
Arthur leaned back on the sofa, watching the footage loop.
A month. That was all it had been since he and Elena had stumbled upon the Mark II test flight. Since Tony had crashed through his own ceiling and landed on a vintage Shelby Cobra. Since Yinsen had arrived with photographs of burning villages and Stark weapons in terrorist hands.
Since then, Tony Stark had become a man possessed.
Events had moved with terrifying speed. The very next day, the Mark III had been completed. Tony had flown straight to Gulmira, decimated the Ten Rings cell occupying Yinsen's village, destroyed every Stark weapon he could find, and left the surviving terrorists for the villagers to deal with.
Then came the dogfight with the F-22 Raptors. Arthur had watched the news coverage with quiet amusement as Colonel Rhodes stood before reporters, stone-faced, explaining that a fighter jet had been destroyed in a "training exercise malfunction." The man deserved a medal just for keeping a straight face.
In the timeline Arthur remembered, Tony would have slowed down after Gulmira. He would have turned his attention to corporate espionage and Obadiah Stane.
But in this world, with Stane gone and no immediate enemy to check him, Tony had found a different mission.
Every three or four days, JARVIS would identify another location where Stark Industries weapons had ended up in the wrong hands. Tony would suit up, fly halfway across the world, dismantle the operation with surgical precision, and return home to tinker with upgrades.
His primary targets were Ten Rings bases. Whether it was revenge for his captivity or a genuine desire to prevent others from suffering as he had, Tony was systematically erasing the terrorist organization from the map.
Tony was working hard. Very hard, actually. And it was worrying the people who cared about him.
"Arthur." Eileen's voice cut through his thoughts. She had stopped her preparations, watching the screen with a troubled expression. "If he's really doing all this… seven strikes in three weeks? Pepper told me yesterday he's barely sleeping and practically lives in the workshop. This can't go on."
"Uncle Tony is saving people!" Elena announced, bounding into the room still in her pajamas. She climbed onto the sofa beside Arthur, eyes bright with excitement as she stared at the screen. "Look! He stopped the bad men again!"
Eileen's expression softened as she looked at her daughter. "Yes, sweetheart. He's helping people. But your father and I are worried he's not taking care of himself."
Elena's brows knitted together in thought. "I'll call him," she declared solemnly. "I'll tell Uncle Tony to sleep. Heroes need naps too."
Before either parent could respond, she darted off - small footsteps pattering down the hall - calling, "Winky! Bring the phone! We need to call Uncle Tony! It's an emergency!"
Eileen exhaled, rubbing her forehead. "Arthur... is he going to be safe? He's pushing too hard. Too fast."
Arthur placed his cup down, his expression turning serious. "He'll be fine. Those terrorists don't have anything that can threaten him. He's a tank that breaks the sound barrier."
"But he's one man, Arthur." Eileen sat on the arm of the sofa, looking at her husband. "You know better than anyone that being powerful doesn't mean you can't be outsmarted. Right now, he and his suit of armor are hitting them with shock and awe. But what happens when the shock wears off?"
Arthur nodded slowly. She was right, of course.
"Adaptation," Arthur agreed. "It's the first rule of conflict. If you can't break the shield, you target the man. Or you change the battlefield."
He looked at the screen, where the news anchor was breathlessly speculating about the identity of the mysterious vigilante.
"Tony is fighting like an engineer solving a physics problem. See weapon, destroy weapon. But he's not fighting robots; he's fighting insurgents who have survived decades of war against two superpowers. They aren't stupid. Soon, they'll stop leaving the weapons out in the open. They'll hide them in schools. They'll rig the crates with traps. They'll use hostages as human shields in ways his targeting systems can't resolve."
Eileen rubbed her temples. "And when that happens..."
"He'll freeze," Arthur finished gently. "Because he's not a soldier. He's a good man trying to fix the world, but he's inexperienced, emotional, and he's working alone. All of that will make you slow. And in a war zone, slow gets people killed."
"Should you step in?" Eileen asked, her voice quiet. "You could... I don't know, talk to him? Or help him?"
Arthur leaned back, weighing the thought. "I've tried telling him to slow down. It didn't work. He's in that first wave of exhilaration, where he feels untouchable." He paused, a hint of distant self-reflection crossing his face. "Was I ever like that? I don't remember. But Tony… Tony needs to hit a wall before he understands his limits and starts thinking strategically."
Arthur knew exactly why this was happening.
With Stane gone and the Iron Monger never built, Tony had never faced a real challenge. Every encounter ended the same way: Tony arrived, overwhelmed the opposition with superior tech, and left without a scratch. No close calls. No moments that forced him to adapt. Nothing to teach him that the armor had limits—or that he did.
In the original timeline, the battle with Obadiah had been brutal. Tony had nearly died. The experience had taught him humility, shown him the dangers of overconfidence, and forced him to confront his own mortality.
But this Tony?
This Tony was getting proud. Confident. Careless.
Arthur could hear it in his tone when they spoke, see it in the way he dismissed each new mission as routine. Tony Stark's ego had always been the size of a small star, but now it was being reinforced by a perfect streak of victories.
And that was dangerous.
So far, Tony had only fought men with guns. Eventually, he would face someone who could think past the armor—someone faster, smarter, or far more prepared. And if Tony walked into that battle with the same cavalier attitude he'd been wearing like a second suit…
Arthur sighed.
Should I intervene? Create a challenge for him?
The idea had circled his mind more than once. It would be easy enough to disguise himself, engage Tony in a controlled fight, and give him the humbling experience he desperately needed. A safe lesson. A wake-up call.
But the thought left a bitter taste.
It felt manipulative. Calculated. Too similar to the way Dumbledore had dropped Harry into neatly arranged "learning opportunities"—always from the shadows, always convinced he knew best.
Arthur had sworn he would never become that kind of man.
Besides, it was troublesome. He'd have to maintain the disguise, gauge the right level of force, deal with Tony's inevitable questions afterward... No. Too much effort for uncertain results.
"Arthur?" Eileen prompted, waiting for an answer.
"He'll be fine," Arthur assured her, though his mind was still calculating. "The universe usually provides its own lessons. We just have to wait."
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. Arthur glanced at the screen.
Daniel.
"One moment," Arthur said, picking up. "Daniel."
"Arthur, quick update. We've closed all short positions and we're buying Stark shares as fast as humanly possible." Daniel sounded like he'd been surviving on caffeine and spite alone. "Honestly? It's been easier than expected."
Arthur raised a brow. "Has it?"
"The stock is in freefall. With Stane gone, nobody's soothing the shareholders, and Tony…" Daniel groaned. "Tony hasn't made a single public appearance in weeks. No statements, no interviews. People think the kidnapping broke him."
"Good," Arthur said calmly. "Finish the acquisition within two days."
"Two days?" A pause. "Is something happening? Is Tony about to announce something?"
Arthur watched the red-gold blur on the screen. "What if I told you the man in that suit on the news is Tony himself?"
Silence. Then: "...You're serious?"
"Completely."
"He built that? And he's flying it personally?" Daniel released a breath halfway between awe and exasperation. "Isn't he being a little too casual with his life? I don't care what the suit can do, but underneath it, he's just human."
Arthur huffed a soft laugh. "He'll be fine."
"Don't get me wrong," Daniel said quickly. "I'm not worried about our portfolio. I just don't want the world to lose the most intelligent man alive. After you, of course."
"No," Arthur corrected. "Give that title to him. I use tools to augment my capabilities. Tony is the real thing. Unaugmented genius."
"And he should be glad he has you as his guardian angel."
Arthur chuckled. "You have the same guardian angel. Don't be jealous."
"I am eternally grateful for the Lord's protection," Daniel deadpanned.
"Daniel—"
"Sorry, Arthur. Got to go. Deadlines. I'll have everything wrapped up in forty-eight hours."
And Daniel cut the call.
Arthur stared at the phone for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile.
Eileen had a grin on her face, barely suppressed laughter dancing in her eyes. "Guardian angel?"
"Don't start."
"No, no, I think it's sweet." She pressed a hand to her heart in mock solemnity. "I, too, am eternally grateful for the Lord's protection."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"Someone in this house has to," she said breezily, gathering her files. "But seriously—why the rush? Why finish the acquisition in two days?"
"The military and S.H.I.E.L.D. should already know that Tony is the one flying around," Arthur said. "I don't want anyone pressuring him through his company. With our combined holdings forming a majority, no one can force Tony to do what he doesn't want."
She looked at him then. "You always think of everything."
Arthur gave a small shrug. "Someone has to."
"But does it always have to be you?" she asked gently.
Arthur had no reply for that.
Maybe he felt responsible for how things were unfolding. He was the variable who had sent the world spiraling into unknown territory, and he wanted to ensure things didn't turn bad because of it.
Or maybe he simply didn't want uncontrollable situations affecting him or his family.
Either way, the answer was the same.
He would keep watch. He would prepare. And when the time came, he would act.
That was simply who he was.